


TXSZ

by TheSideWallflower



Category: RWBY
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSideWallflower/pseuds/TheSideWallflower
Summary: Team TXSZ has always had a hard time connecting, but when disaster strikes, will it tear them apart or draw them together?





	1. Packing

**Author's Note:**

> This work will follow RWBY's lore and main story but it will have its diverges. For instance, ancient relics from before Humanity's extinction exist and are extremely powerful things with magical properties. Some of my own lore/world building will be present including new types of Grimm, new characters, and details to old characters as well as random facts about the world to flesh out Remnant. If something is said in the show/books/other media I'll edit and adjust to accommodate the new information IF I CAN. I'll stick as close to the canon as I can while telling a unique story.

The one thing that Zoran Karpati would miss about Haven was, well, actually, Haven had nothing to miss. The people of Mistral were decidedly racist, even though several Faunus graduated from Haven to become Huntsmen. This simple fact supplied the reason why Zoran remained in Mistral, and, of course, he didn't actually have the lien to leave. The mountains that housed Haven served as a great hiding place for criminals or less-than-desirable people, and the largest black market in all of Remnant. The mountains also gave the wind a unique crispness at all times of the day; he could feel it now, wafting through the open window of his shared dorm room. The curtains, blue as they were in all the rooms for Mistral's love of the sea and sky, fluttered under the breeze.

Zoran's team leader, Thunder Colvic, scheduled them to leave for Vale’s Vytal Festival Tournament tomorrow. The Tournament wouldn't begin for another two months, but Zoran wasn't complaining about leaving Haven. However, finding time or place to practice would be a hassle with all the students and guest students at Beacon. Their assigned airship would arrive early the next morning; leaving Zoran with the sticky situation of having not packed yet--which he currently worked hard to remedy. His uniform lay at the bottom of his traveling suitcase; black trousers, freshly washed and neatly folded, lay underneath a spotless white undershirt and black jacket. A snow-white armband lay on top of it all, the final part of the uniform. The uniform's drabness clashed with Mistal's love of art and culture. Zoran often found himself thinking that seeing a group of Haven students in uniform equaled the equivalent of staring at a black sea.

The next thing stored in the case included Zoran's bedsheets and blanket; Professor Lionheart had told traveling students they wouldn't need them but, he preferred his own. He didn't have many personal possessions, hence, packing turned out to be less of a chore than anticipated. Zoran pushed himself to his feet off the pleasing-to-the-eye dark beige carpeted floor. He strode over to a closet, each dorm room had two of them, and the students could use them as they saw fit. Zoran shared a closet with Xanthus, his partner, and his teammate. Moving Xanthus's clothing aside, Zoran grabbed his own. An extra set of normal clothing would make training more comfortable. Folding the extras neatly, he put them down inside his case. Once inside Zoran shut the case and latched it, leaving it at the foot of his bare bed.

Zoran picked up his scroll and checked it before heading out the door. He still had a few hours before the traveling students were to meet at the Grand Hall for a farewell message from Professor Lionheart, Headmaster of Haven Academy. He could be sure that the rest or at least some of the staff would be present.

He opened the door to the dormitories and stepped out into the open sunlight. He followed along the path leading back to the main school, meeting a few fellow students and classmates along the way. The path held nothing of importance or interest; the flowers that adorned the stone path held beauty but having seen them for so long he barely noticed. The path took him past one of the two Cross-Continental Towers and into the Quad--the basis of all life on camps. The Quad is the center of campus, the offices, and the grand hall lay to his left, the main school to his right, and the CCTs in front and behind him. Due to the proximity of the Quad to the towers, the Quad had the best signal. The main building of the school hid the courtyard and the entrance from Zoran's view, but it shared the same brown and red color scheme as the rest of the campus. The Quad was adorned with benches of stone and wood, trees sat rooted at the edges of the Quad and a fountain sat at the center of it all. Students milled about, clustered in groups or sitting by themselves studying the books piled beside them.

“Zoran! I thought you’d never leave your room!” A voice called from across the Quad, Zoran recognized it immediately as the voice of Archer Brown. Zoran had met, and been forcefully befriended by, Archer Brown during/after his initiation; he was likable enough if a bit eccentric. Archer was born and raised in Anima; the only factor that made Zoran tolerate him was his surprising lack of racism. Zoran turned to look at Archer before deciding that he could tolerate a conversation with the fellow huntsmen in training.

“How’d you know I was in my room?” He asked from behind the facial mask covering his lower face.

“Spike and Thunder came by, they told me,” Archer responded.

“Oh, do you know where they are now?”

“Over yonder and yonder over.” Archer grinned, his teeth a flash of white against tanned skin.

“Pardon?” Zoran asked incredulously. Archer laughed, bending double, clutching at his knees with his gloved hands.

“I don’t know where Spike and Thunder went, but I’d be glad to accompany you.” He whisked his brown cowboy hat from his saddle hair and fell into a gentleman’s bow. Zoran snorted at his antics.

“Alright, c’mon,” He said, waving an arm to get Archer to follow him. “Let’s find them.”

“You can laugh?!” Archer exclaimed straightening to his full height--which was nearly an inch taller than Zoran--whipping his hat back on his head. He caught up to Zoran with a half skip and continued walking with a spring in his step. “I’m astounded, and shocked!”

“You sure are an interesting one.”


	2. Training

The door to the training room opened, the movement-sensitive lights flickering to life, illuminating the large space. The training room's bigger group practice area separated into smaller, private training areas for one-on-one practice. Xanthus Linder proceeded to one of these private training areas carrying Anemos in one hand and a green-shaded cube in the other. The floor sported dusty beige tiles, smooth to the touch, and, unsurprisingly, offered little traction. The walls bore scratches, cuts, and dents ruining its once wonderful paint. The lights on the walls rested behind small metal bars to protect them from any stray projectiles. In the room Xanthus entered, the far wall was adorned by a large scorch mark-a byproduct of a Semblance gone wrong. He approached the scorched wall stopping about a foot from it; bending down, Xanthus placed the cube upon the tile. Palm resting on the top of the green-shaded cube, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath; an opaque lime glow appeared on his arm as he powered the mechanical workings within the cube. A low hum filled the reticent room and the cube shone chartreuse signaling that it worked.

Xanthus took several sizable steps back and got into a fighting position, shifting Anemos into a lax two-handed grip. Anemos, Xanthus' beloved quarter-staff, held a silver-minty exterior complemented by eccentric carved lines like that of a winding rose vine. The interior of the staff made the exterior's 'complexity' laughable; small interconnected parts dictated the staff's form, one shift of the gears, and the staff would change into a gun or separate into dual nunchucks. Another part gave the staff the use of Dust of all variety, others allowed the dust to be used, moved, or changed. Anemos remained Xanthus' greatest creation to date and he loved it dearly.

Across the room, the cube whirled and spun growing larger, giving form to a hard light projection of a lean sword wielder. The seaweed green projection held no features other than its color-indicating aura and sword, which it swung lazily in an arc. Xanthus let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as the hard projection charged. The sword swung in a large overhead arc, a powerful blow to jar him and make him weak. A small shift and an adjustment with the placement of his spear and the sword merely glanced down the shaft of the spear. Having not hit squarely, the sword wielder lost balance and lurched forward before it could stop itself. Quick as a whip Xanthus struck with Anemos sending the projection sprawling. The color of the fake changed ever so slightly as it received damage.

Xanthus leaped back to a safe distance waiting for the projection to arise and attack again. It crouched, leaped in the air, and entered into a spin. Xanthus moved to counter its impending attack. Pain caused his grip upon Anemos to lessen and confusion wove through his mind. He saw his Aura flash in the corner of his eye protecting him. Gravity pulled the projection down toward the ground with alarming force; the projection's sword clashed with Anemos, painfully wrenching it out of Xanthus' grip. He winced at the pain in his arms, his Aura glowed protecting him from the damage but not the pain. The sword's direction changed with nothing Xanthus could do to stop it. Instinctively, Xanthus crouched, the sword soaring over his head, and rolled underneath the projection's outstretched arm. He swiped up Anemos and kicked the projection in the back of the knee following up with a blow to the head from Anemos. It changed colors once again turning shamrock.

From its kneeling position, it swung for Xanthus' legs but he was ready this time. Sword and staff clashed together; the sword broke, shattering into thousands of small cubes before dissipating. Now weaponless, it lunged at Xanthus, fingers morphing into claws and teeth into fangs. He was tackled to the ground and viciously fought to unpin himself keeping Anemos against the projection's chest. Claws held his arms in a vice grip and fangs snapped dangerously close to his shoulders and neck. He poured all his strength into a last-ditch effort to dislodge his attacker. With a double-footed kick, the projection was thrown off not without scraping its claws down his arms. He switched Anemos into sniper rifle form loaded with Gravity Dust. He took aim and fired two shots-one at the wall and the other at the projection. He flicked a button and the gravity dust began to glow; the projection was pulled back into the wall, the gravity dust acting like opposite poles. The projection hit the wall and shattered into cubes upon impact.

Xanthus let out a sign and his shoulders relaxed, Anemos becoming heavy in his grip as the adrenaline left him. He allowed himself a minute to rest, not registering the soft clapping coming from the man who stopped to watch the fight. At the sound, Xanthus whipped around, Anemos at the ready, and the man put his hands up.

"Easy, sadiqaa. I don't want to end up like-well, whatever _that_ was." The man put his arms down but Anemos remained raised. A muscle twitched nervously in his jaw waiting to see if he would be attacked. "Hi, I'm Sable Drake, I belong to Team LEAD, Archer is one of my team-mates? He's friends with Zoran? You are Xanthus Linder of Team TXSZ, right?"

"Yes," Xanthus said, lowering Anemos but keeping it close to his body. "yes I know who you are. Sable Drake, member of team LEAD, led by Loisto Halo. Team LEAD was last year's 'hot-shot' team. You and your team are second years this year."

"Yes! Thank goodness! I thought you were going to attack me." Sable laughed in relief.

"Since you're a second year and you have more experience-"

"I don't have that much experience," Sable mumbled.

"-than me, do you have the time to go over my information from my practice?"

"You mean like give you tips on your fighting that I witnessed?"

"Sort of," Xanthus picked up the cube near the wall and showed it to Sable. "This is P.T.M."

"P.T.M?" He took the cube from Xanthus examining it from all sides and shifting it from hand to hand.

"Programmed Training Mechanism," Xanthus explained. "P.T.M. creates a hard-light projection for me to fight and records my battles for me to view later."

"Really? All that inside a tiny machine?"

"It does more than that but that's the simple way of explaining it."

"That's amazing! I'd be glad to help." Xanthus's face flushed at the unexpected praise from the upperclassman and he took his creation back from Sable. As the pair of them left the training rooms the motion sensor lights flicked off leaving the room in darkness.


	3. Fun

Adrenaline flooded his veins, his brain, and muscles alight with fire and life. Electricity danced in his heart and hunger in his eyes. The roaring of his heartbeat drowned out all sounds around him leaving a brutal calm in its wake. His joy was unmistakable partaking in his favorite activity: beating Grimm (or anything) to death.

The wooden bat he currently held embedded itself on the head of a Beowulf. Thunder's face lit up with carnal joy, a maniacal grin spreading across his face. With a howl, the Beowulf died, its body dissolving into black smoke and dust. The Beowulf's companions growled more than eager to attack, Thunder was just as eager twirling the bat within his grasp. "Come on, come, and take a bite!"

The Beowulfs' snarls and growls met Thunder's challenge, they leaped at him ending on the wrong side of his bat. The first took a bat blow to the face, the second earned a blow to the chest that broke the bat. He took the third one head-on, tackling it with a feral fierceness that matched the beast's own. He grasped the Beowulf and hurdled it into a tree. The fourth Beowulf pinned him to the ground, fangs aiming to tear his neck asunder. Thunder gripped the Beowulf's maw, white aura sparkling where fangs fought to dig into skin, working to pull it ajar. He used his aura to strengthen his muscles, it drained him quickly but he managed to dislocate the jaw. With one arm he held the Beowulf back and the other he found the broken bat handle and jammed its jagged side under the Beowulf's bone-plated head. Thunder watched the bloodlust die in its eyes and it dissipated into the air.

A howl rose through the humid air followed by three others. The Alpha stood a foot taller than the three lesser Beowulfs, it had more armor and more experience than its lessers. The Alpha watched Thunder slowly rise, leveling up the foe who killed some of his pack. Thunder didn't bat an eye at his new opponent. "Well? You're supposed to be smart, do you want to die today?"

The Alpha narrowed its blazing eyes, glaring at Thunder who didn't move. Deciding it didn't want to die, it howled its retreat, turned, and fled with its fellows. Thunder laughed at the pathetic display.

He picked up the broken pieces of the bat, his danger-induced adrenaline high fading and leaving him feeling weak but happy. It's a shame the bat broke, he'd intended on returning it to the owner. Little Jimmy would be left wondering where he left his bat, oops. He was so very tempted to put the bat back and let the kid get in trouble for it being broken but he did just have some fun already and finding the kid seemed like too much work. He lazily threw the head of the bat behind him looking up at Haven Academy perched between two mountain tops.

he mused,

Thunder heard a crack of a twig breaking behind him and grinned. It seemed his prey hadn't given up just yet. He loved being hunted, seeing the predator fall to its own prey. Right when the hunter thinks it's won the tables turn and it becomes the hunted. From top dog to bottom feeder, the shift in power was what he truly loved, in humans and animals. Such is the way an Atlas high-class should be.

Thunder pivoted and threw the bat handle in the direction of the sound, high enough to hit the Alpha in the chest or to hit a normal Beo in the neck. He waited for the telltale sound of a Grimm getting smacked by wood but the sound never arrived. His grin fell into a grimace, body tensing ready to jump in any direction to avoid a blow. No blow came, instead, a young man walked out of the wood carrying the broken handle. Thunder's lip curled at the sight of him, he'd had the misfortune to meet him back at Atlas; Loisto Halo, the General's spoiled little protegee.

"Was any of this necessary?" Loisto asked in a bored but authoritative drawl. An authority that Thunder's will screamed to disobey and disappoint.

"Was it necessary to ruin my fun?" Thunder shot back.

"Only a psycho refers to brutally beating Grimm as 'fun'."

"The Grimm are only manifestations of destruction and evil, they don't live and breathe. They only know death and destruction."

"Are you talking about the Grimm or yourself?" Loisto quirked a golden eyebrow. Thunder could feel his anger mounting, the sheer of the man before him. The General's special little protegee gifted with everything except a good upbringing. He honestly couldn't tell what about Loisto pissed him off more. His looks? Possibly, he had the beauty of an Elite Mistral painting. His fighting ability? It could be called good, a cut above the rest for sure, as expected of his intense training with the General. Although, Thunder felt certain he could beat him in a fight. His personality? Stuck up. Arrogant. Prick. Acting like he was better than everyone else, smarter, stronger, just because the General chose him? Why and how could this low-born be chosen over him, a high elite of Atlas that was fully capable, if not more so?

"Don't patronize me, low class, you belong in the mines with the Faunus." Thunder snarled, reveling in the pained look that crossed the other's face.

"I may be 'low class' but I'll never be as low as you." Loisto retorted. "Your treatment of others and racist views are nothing to be admired. You beating Grimm to death can lead to you hurting innocent people one day. I'd be safer for everyone if you'd curb that mindless aggression and violence of yours."

"Ha! I use that 'mindless aggression' to protect citizens." The blonde male gave a skeptic and judgy look at his junior clearly not believing a word he said. "Now if you have nothing to say, good day!"

"Do you not want this back?" Loisto asked, raising the broken bat handle to Thunder's retreating form. Thunder said nothing, continuing to walk back through the woods. Fuming and giving off a deadly vibe, his thoughts remained on Loisto even as he left him behind in the woods


	4. Reading

The library had strict rules about volume, nothing over a dull thrum. If you broke that rule you'd get thrown out, but that didn't stop anyone from playing games like _Remnant: The Game_ or _Huntsman's Arena_. It was quiet enough that you could work but loud enough for you to know you weren't alone; Spike Foxglove loved it.

The quiet welcomed him like an old friend. He came here to hide from his team, they were great guys, but Thunder could get… _overwhelming_. Xanthus often got lost in his own world, absorbed with creating his machines. Spike constantly found himself fascinated with them, Xanthus created something out of nothing and then gave it life and purpose. Xanthus's interchangeable staff, Anemos, attested his abilities and Spike could sense a brightness from Xanthus whenever he talked about it. When their conversation got animated and Xanthus buzzed with enthusiasm, his excitability overflowed into Spike and made him giddy. Until Thunder snapped at them to shut up and the mood dissipated, Xanthus worked on his newest project-a lamp for the dorm-and Spike reading one of his many books.

Sometimes, Spike caught Zoran listening in on their conversations, writing a class paper with one ear cocked or hunched over his greatsword idly searching for nicks, but he never joined in. Spike got the impression that Zoran felt he couldn't join in as a large gap lay between them. Or perhaps he was just awkward with other people.

A gods-awful scraping gained his attention and drew him from his book. A muscled man with a full mane of hair and the beginning of a scraggly beard sat across from him, his Faunus lion tail flicking lazily behind him. "Howdy!"

The Faunus's energy was intoxicating and _warm_ , it seeped into him and he smiled in spite of himself. "Hello, was there something you needed?"

The Faunus smiled, a pearly fang partly showing, and he leaned his forearms on the table. "What'cha reading?"

Spike wedged a finger into his book to keep his spot then closed it to view the cover, bold lines making the words _Midnight Howls_ greeted him and a wolf attacking the reader with a girl walking a forest path. "Midnight Howls by Tyger Fox."

"A horror novel?"

"No, more of a mystery/adventure novel."

"Oh, really?" He put his elbows on the table and leaned his head on his palms. "What's it about?"

"A huntress finds an abandoned village and tries to figure out what happened to it. I think it's based on the destruction of Kuroyuri."

"Kuroyuri?"

"It was created by a group of wealthy Mistralian merchants and they named it after the top contributor, Brayleigh Kuroyuri. Unfortunately, it was destroyed by Grimm several years ago, there were no survivors."

"Brayleigh Kuroyuri, the Atlesian Politician?"

"Yes, Brayleigh only stayed in the town until its construction was complete. She left for Atlas and forgot about the town. Just another Atlesian elite."

"That's a shame." The Faunus clicks his tongue. "Hey, you're from Atlas, aren't you?"

"Yes." Spike flips his book back open but the Faunus doesn't take the hint.

"Why'd you chose Haven and not Atlas?"

"Hmm," Spike hums. "I didn't want to be another mindless soldier."

"Makes sense, I'm Dion Embric and as you can tell," Dion lifts his tail to the tabletop. "I am a Faunus, a lion to be exact. And no, I have no relation to our headmaster."

Spike stares at the tail for a long minute then blurts, "Is your tail soft?"

The warmth within Dion fades, replaced by the grey of confusion then switches to caution. He swipes his tail off the table. "Ms. Lovebourne wants to see you before you head off tomorrow."

"Alright." Spike got up and pushed in his chair. "Thank you."

Spike rapped on the spruce door of Ms. Lovebourne's classroom, the three staccato notes ringing loudly. He waited for her silky voice to beckon him in and when she did he opened the door to her radiant classroom. Ms. Lovebourne's walls bore several inspirational and motivational posters, and a map of Remnant painted across all four walls. Students swear she painted it herself, against the wishes of the headmaster and the other teachers. The Deputy Headmaster tried to fire her but the students put up too much of a fuss and he had no choice but to let her stay. The students loved her, she kept her desk neat, always updated students' grades almost daily, and would make time to help any student with any subject.

"Professor Lovebourne, you wanted to see me? Was there something wrong with my last essay?" Spike asked the slender woman sitting in the front of the room, her fuschia hair twisted back in a braid. She smiled up at him, watermelon eyes sparkling, and gestured to the chair next to her. He sat stiffly, his hands clasping the book in his lap.

"Oh no, your essay _'Kuroyuri and The History of Abandoned Settlements'_ was spectacular and surprisingly long, you had a lot of material and plenty to say on the topic." Ms. Lovebourne said, her silky voice flowing like warm caramel.

"I like to cover everything, Professor."

"Actually there was one settlement, made during the Great War, on the dragon-continent. The King of Vale tried to colonize there but Atlas invaded and fighting ensued. The people that lived there referred to the place as 'Michi naru mono', the unknown." She motioned to the unnamed dragon-like continent painted on one of the walls.

"So after the war, this settlement was abandoned?"

"No, they went back, but the Grimm were deemed too vicious and they even encountered many that no one's ever seen in over hundreds of years, and no one has seen them since."

"Professor, these Grimm, what were they?"

She stood up and went behind her desk. Wood scraped on wood, a telltale sign of a drawer opening, and she placed a large book on the table. Spike rose off his chair and joined her. On the desk lay a _Grimm Studies_ book. But like everything Ms. Lovebourne owned, differences were prevalent. Underneath the title, _Past and Present_ was inscribed in crimson ink, and this book had more pages than the standard Grimm Studies textbook that Professor Callows used. "Nearly all records of the settlement and its history were lost but those that remain depict ancient Grimm."

She flipped past several pages, images of Beowulves, borbatusks, Lancers, and Ursas flying by. She stopped on a page with a rough sketch of a bipedal, scaled creature with tiny arms but wicked claws dubbed _The Vector_. One drawing showed the creature's beaklike jaw open, displaying many small serrated teeth. "Accounts of this Grimm say it came out at night, they attacked in packs and moved fast enough they seemed to have teleportation."

"Is that possible?"

"Hmm?"

"For the Grimm to teleport."

"Anything is possible, my dear student. Of all the things you've learned or have yet to learn, that will always remain true." Ms. Lovebourne reaches over and boops his nose, he flinches at the sudden contact. "Never forget that."

"I won't, Professor." Spike bows his head slightly, raising it again within a few seconds.

"Good, good." She nods. "I heard your team is planning on fighting in the Vytal Festival, correct?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Mistral hosted the last Festival but Atlas claimed victory. I hope this year Haven can take the throne from Atlas."

"I hope so too, Professor."

"You and your team leader, Mr. Colvic, are from Atlas aren't you?"

"Yes, Professor." He nods.

"Were you and Mr. Colvic friends before coming here?"

Spike pauses a minute, the teacher's question reminding him of an incident from two years ago. "No, but I had met him before."

"Do you know why he chose Haven over Atlas?"

"Spike doesn't like cages and he doesn't like laws. If he stayed at Atlas it would've become his cage. He'd probably made a special operative, he'd be a weapon, and Ironwood would be standing behind him, holding his leash." Spike explained. "And he's a little chaotic so Ironwood could've just rejected him."

"That's pretty astute, what do you think of Zoran?"

"Zoran keeps to himself and he seems to have a hard time making lasting relationships with people. He's so weary all the time and it puts me a little on edge."

"And Xanthus?"

"He takes great pride in his machines, he could talk about them all day. He loves making adjustments and improving just about anything that runs on technology. And despite his pride, he takes criticism well."

"Hmm, interesting." Ms. Lovebourne murmurs.

"Professor?" Spike tilts his head.

"You talk about these people like you've known them for years yet you've only known them for less than a year."

"Ah, well, it's just sort of a passive thing, I can sense things from people and sometimes they affect me too. If I focus on one person I can break down their mental state, see their current emotions or what their normal personality is." Spike explained. He smiles a little. "This ability helped me weasel out of trouble more than a few times."

"I believe," Ms. Lovebourne drawls, tapping her fingers on her desk. She closes the book on her desk with a soft plop! "Leonardo made a mistake, as humankind is prone to doing."

"Professor?" Spike questioned. She smiled at him, a hint of sadness in her warm eyes, and claps him on the shoulder.

"Headmaster Lionheart's speech should be starting soon. You should go." Spike nods and exits the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Ms. Lovebourne looks down at her book and resumes tapping, her fingers thumping on the wood.


	5. Speech

Zoran idled in the back of the Great Hall, Archer and him failed in finding his teammates. By the time they got around to checking the Library, Archer found Dion, one of his teammates, who informed them that Spike had been called upon by a teacher. Dion and Archer struck up a conversation and somehow they roped Zoran into it and he found himself unable to leave for nearly an hour. Thankfully, Headmaster Lionheart called them all to the Grand Hall, offering Zoran a brief respite. Archer and Dion insisted on walking to the Grand Hall with him but once they arrived the pair vanished, Zoran assumed they left to find the rest of their team, Loisto, and Sable.

"Yo," Thunder's deep voice startles him. "did you finish your damn packing yet?"

"Yes," Zoran replied curtly, already dreading Thunder's arrival.

"Hey, guys!" Xanthus' almost-feminine voice piped up, appearing out of nowhere. "What's up?"

"Oi, you came from the dorm right?" Thunder demanded. "Did Zoran pack his crap?"

"Yup!" Xanthus smiled, Zoran grumbled, he clearly just told him that same answer, but his noise was lost behind his mask. "His suitcase is laying on his bed."

"Yeah, but did you-"

"Students and Staff," Professor Lionheart began, cutting Thunder off. The lion Faunus looked small and not because he stood above a stone statue of a woman. Progressively, he seemed to be getting smaller over the course of the year, he didn't stand as straight as he once did and his movements were robotic.

"Hey, have either of you noticed anything odd about Professor Lionheart?" Zoran asked in a hushed tone.

"Eh? Seems fine to me." Thunder's dismissal comes easily and is more or less expected.

"I've noticed it too," Spike said, nearly arriving late. "Something must be weighing on him this year, maybe one of his friends or family is terminally ill."

Zoran humms in response, doubting that answer's truth. In Zoran's opinion, Headmaster Lionheart had the look of a man being hunted, he was paranoid and stressed about it.

"As you know, the 40th Vytal Festival is being held in Vale this year, a few of the participating teams have already departed, but for those remaining, I wish to bid you good luck and hope you fight well to bring honor to our school. Last Vytal Festival we lost the final battle against Atlas."

Several students, mainly the upperclassmen, grumbled, drowning out Professor Lionheart before they died down.

"Over the next few weeks, transport will be available to all students planning on going to Vale for the festival." Headmaster Lionheart concluded, practically scurrying away. Toto Gale, the unofficial Deputy Headmaster, grabbed the microphone.

"Students going to Vale please make sure you turn in _ALL_ paperwork _BEFORE_ you leave or it will be counted as a 0 and they will factor into your end-of-year grades. And, need I remind you, a failing grade will earn you remedial classes, multiple failing grades will get you expelled. Furthermore, all staff will be available so students can turn in and receive help if they need it." A blonde monkey Faunus student mumbled something and Toto's sandy dog ears twitched. "Yes, Mister Wukong, I'm talking with you in mind."

One of Wukong's teammates laughed and Toto continued. "Any student wishing to view their grades early may come to ask and I will be glad to show them to you. Please take initiative and ask teachers if there is anything you can do to raise your grade."

"The first round of Vytal will be in two months, only teams representing Mistral will be permitted to leave during the next few weeks, remember to listen to the teachers at Beacon. When the festival nears students not participating will be allowed to attend. Fight well and bring honor to our Kingdom and school!" He concluded and turned the microphone off.

A firm hand touched his shoulder and he looked to find Spike beside him. "You did turn in your work, right?"

He nodded as Spike asked Xanthus the same question and got the same answer. He noticed that Spike didn't ask Thunder, who'd already begun wandering off.

"We should get some rest, we leave early in the morning." Spike urged them. "Professor Callows says a fitful sleep makes a fitful day."

Zoran smiled under his mask, he had heard Professor Callows say that during their assignment with him. The assignment was a simple one, they had to clear out a pack of Ursas terrorizing a small town. They weren't actually supposed to do any of the work, just shadow the Huntsman but Professor Callows deemed the mission easy enough that they could handle it and even gave them extra credit. Xanthus had been overjoyed, the extra credit put him at the top of their class and due to his perfect grades, he'd become untouchable. Zoran had been grateful too, thanks to the extra credit, he'd passed the semester with a B average.

Xanthus yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, sleep seems good. Besides, the sooner we sleep the faster we'll be on our way to Vale!"

A comical face of shock passed over Xanthus' face. "Oh no! I forgot to pack my lamp!" He then bolts off, he must've zoomed by Thunder because Spike and Xanthus hear his voice yell out 'Oi!' as they walk together.


	6. Flight

The whirling of the engine rings in Thunder's ears. He'd had one of his father's personal pilots fly out to Haven so they could take his team to Vale. He'd also made sure to get a human pilot, not a Faunus one, he didn't want any of his team to be tainted by their secondhand citizenships.

"Hurry up!" Thunder roared from the passenger seat upfront. Zoran stood in the cabin messing with his scroll, Xanthus and Spike loaded their bags into a compartment under the ship.

Thunder stomped toward the open door, a sharp retort on his tongue about his teammates' slowness. Xanthus hopped past him into the cabin, his lamp and a box of tools in his arms. Spike shut the door to the storage compartment.

"Mr. Foxglove, a word please." Professor Lovebourne called. Thunder inwardly groaned, their flight now delayed even further.

Spike left the airship and walked over to the professor. They spoke for several moments but Thunder couldn't hear them. If Spike had been talking to anyone else Thunder would've snapped at him to shut up and get in the airship, but he knew better than to say that in front of a teacher so he waited.

She handed him a dark satchel and said something before he gently placed the strap over his shoulder. He bowed his head slightly and she smiled at him.

Spike climbed into the ship and Thunder muttered 'nerd' under his breath as he walked by. A lackluster jab and Thunder blamed it on Professor Lovebourne's natural talent to ease the people around her.

Thunder pulled the ship's door shut, stalked toward the front of the ship, and flopped onto the passenger seat as the pilot took off, not bothering to put on the seatbelt.

Less than 10 minutes into their several-hour flight and Thunder had already grown bored. The pilot, a young woman by the name of Reese, handed him a deck of playing cards and told him to go play around with his friends and stop antsying around in the front seat. He responded saying that if she had the gaul to order him around then she could begin looking for a new job. The caramel-skinned pilot bit the inside of her cheek to curb her mounting anger and stayed silent.

However, he did take the playing cards. "Oi, Grey-Skin, play with me."

Spike obeyed Thunder's demand and sat in front of him. His skin was light grey and, naturally, people always asked him why. He explained it away by saying his odd skin was due to a mishap in the dust mines he worked in as a child. He offered this response to Thunder when he'd asked, and other than a few snide remarks about his past in the mines and his unique skin color, he'd accepted the information and dropped the subject.

Thunder dealt out a hand to each of them and the two began to play. Zoran occasionally cast them glances and each time he was caught he looked back out the window. His interest was painfully obvious but he never once asked to be dealt a hand and Thunder never offered.

Xanthus spent the majority of his time fiddling and tweaking with his lamp. It'd broken sometime during their third quarter and Xanthus had worked to fix it ever since. When he finally got frustrated he wandered up to the front to make conversation with the pilot.

Thunder mostly tuned it out, he didn't care about the mechanics of Atlesian ships. He only cared that they got where they were going, and quickly. Thankfully, the mountains of Vale had already come into view.

"Woah!" Xanthus exclaimed from the front to the chuckles of the pilot. "Vale looks so different!"

Spike rose from the floor and looked out one of the side windows. While Thunder looked out the front window. Sure enough, the city of Vale was rapidly appearing, it didn't come close to Atlas, but at least it looked better than Mantle.

The ship slowed down as it neared Beacon Academy's landing pad, the city of Vale passing under them. Thunder tapped his fingers on the back of Xanthus' chair, he could've easily kicked the little twerp out of the seat but he'd been sitting for _so_ long and he wanted to get up and _do_ something.

By the time they finally landed, the pilot was ready to snap at Thunder for his insistent tapping. Once they had safely landed and the engine stopped, Thunder wrenched open the ship's door and hopped out. Zoran hopped out behind him, the bigger boy landing with a dull thud. Zoran waited for Spike and Xanthus-who'd stopped to thank the pilot-to jump out too. Once they did, He popped the hatch to the storage compartment but it didn't fly open like it should. He tried to muscle the hatch open but it wouldn't budge.

"Move, oaf." Thunder snapped and pushed past Zoran, trying to force it open himself. The pilot scoffed, placing her foot on the compartment, and pushed down. When she lifted it, the compartment's door opened.

"You have to push down to open the hatch." Thunder glared at the pilot and yanked his suitcase out of the compartment, nearly hitting Zoran with it. He then leaned against the side of the ship as Zoran and Spike unloaded the rest of their luggage.

"Pyrrha!" Suddenly, Xanthus sped off like a bullet, leaving a trail of light green after him. Zoran jerked his head around and they watched as the small teen _flew_ into a tall red-haired woman's arms. Laughing, she swung him around once before setting him down. Spike muttered something to Zoran and he left to join Xanthus and the red-haired woman.

"Thunder?" Spike asked gently and Thunder grunted in response. "Can you help with these bags? I told Zoran he and Xanthus could go talk with their friend."

"We can help!" A jovial voice drew Thunder's attention. It was Loisto and one of his lackeys.

"It's no trouble, I assure you," Loisto informed moving to grab one of Thunder's suitcases.

Thunder kicked it away from his reach and snarled. "Like I'd ever let you and that grubby Faunus of yours touch anything of mine or my teammates."

The Lion Faunus flinched and satisfaction spread through Thunder. Loisto pursed his mouth into a hard line; when he opened his mouth to speak the Faunus cut him off.

"Like I'd ever want to touch something of yours! I was offering to help Spike!" He snapped.

Thunder gave him a mocking smirk. "Like they'd be happy knowing a creature like you touched their stuff." The Faunus was close to foaming at the mouth and Thunder's satisfaction grew, but Spike stepped in before it could come to a fight.

"Thank you for the offer, Dion, Loisto, but we can manage on our own," Spike said, attempting to soothe things over; Loisto still had to drag Dion away.

Spike grabbed his own luggage and some of Xanthus'. He sighed, dismayed to notice that it would take at least another trip if not two.

"Hey, pilot!" Thunder snapped. The midnight-haired woman appeared with a glare. "Help us take this to the dorm."

"Excuse me?" She demanded.

"I already told you," Thunder snapped. "I ordered you to help us."

"If I leave this ship unattended I'll get fired." She retorted.

"If you don't do as I say you'll be fired." He retorted back.

"It's alright, I can take it in another trip." Spike cut in, putting a pause in the two's glaring contest.

"No, I gave her an order and she's gonna do it."

She growled and grit her teeth together painfully, but she grabbed the luggage anyway, a muscle in her jaw twitching.

It took them a while to find the right dorm, Thunder refused to acknowledge that they were lost and wouldn't allow anyone to ask for directions. The pilot had gotten increasingly angry and when they finally made it, she threw the luggage onto a bed and stalked off.

"Did you have to be so rude to them?" Spike asked once she left.

Anger sparked in Thunder's gut. "What?"

"Loisto and Dion."

"He's a Faunus, he's lower than the dirt we walk on!" Thunder growled. "I think your time in the mines made you forget that."

Spike took a deep breath then exhaled. "That explains Dion but what about Loisto?"

"What about him?" The hostility in Thunder's tone grew with every word.

Spike sighed. "Nothing, nevermind."

"No! You clearly have something to say so SAY IT!"

Spike refused to answer and stormed out the door.

**"HEY, GET BACK HERE!"**


End file.
